


Protection

by anniespinkhouse



Category: New Blood (TV)
Genre: Case 1 Part 3 Coda, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:14:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7402270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anniespinkhouse/pseuds/anniespinkhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day after their swimming pool dive, Rash and Stefan are faced with an invoice for cleaning the pool of certain, er, items that dropped from their pockets -<br/>or, in other words, Rash gets a clue and Stefan is going to get what he deserves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protection

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't been writing enough, whooping cough distracts terribly from my concentration but this has been begging to be written since the moment I finished watching Case 1, in a late night, can't stop, holy- shit- look- at- that- character-chemistry, marathon. Written fast and dirty at the dead of night, while inspiration and a brief respite from coughing struck together.
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> The boys and their world are not mine *damn* I am simply playing in Horowitz's wonderful sandbox, for fun and not profit.

Rash was sure that Heywood was deliberately making them wait, letting them sweat. Stefan hadn’t stopped grinning. It was ridiculous and annoying. They were waiting in the office where Rash had a desk cluttered with piles of repetitive work that Derek joyfully delegated to his trainee detective, yet Stefan was revelling in the chaos of it, like he was at the goddamn circus. 

They’d already been debriefed by Stefan’s coolly professional bosses, in airy, hushed, S.F.O. offices. With their cut glass accents and designer clothes, Rash had difficulty seeing exactly how Stefan fit into their picture. Of course, Stefan, with his sky-high confidence, didn’t seem to have that problem at all. Stefan’s anorak had dried perfectly after their swimming pool dive, but Rash’s jacket was expensive, dry clean only, and the chlorinated water had destroyed it. He wasn’t vain, okay, but he liked to look good. He should look like the detective he aspired to be. Not that Derek did, but honestly, Derek wasn’t a shining example of the sort of detective Rash saw himself becoming. He had higher standards, like his father before him.  

 

Stefan sneaked a bic from a desk, twirled it in his fingers, dropped it on the floor, picked it back up and pocketed it. _Stealing from the police_. He looked directly at Rash with raised eyebrows and an irreverent smile. Rash rolled his eyes, breathed in and blew out a long breath, _he wasn't going to let Stefan wind him up._

 

“Oy! Thelma and Louise!” Derek called across the room.

 

Stefan looked amused and Rash pointed at himself, indignant. “We didn’t…” he started.

 

“Hold hands,” finished Stefan, all matter of fact.

 

Rash whipped his head around to look at him, “Why’d you have to say that? Why would you think that?”

 

“Why wouldn’t I? It’s what they did, isn’t it?” Stefan shrugged innocently.

 

“They were in a car,” Rash hissed angrily at him, “We aren’t _girls_ , we weren't _in a car_.”

 

“What is your problem?” Stefan demanded to know.

 

Derek interrupted with the slap of paper on another pile of paper, “I don’t care what part of anatomy you boys were holding. According to the guv, _this_ is your problem.”

 

Stefan could barely hide his amusement, he licked his lips and smirked. Rash opened his mouth to object, thought how pointless it would be, and closed it again. “What is that?” he asked instead.

 

“It’s a bill, a fookin’ big bill.” Derek looked down and read straight from the invoice, “In respect of unscheduled pool sanitation services, pertaining to unauthorised use and contamination by the Metropolitan Police Service.”

Stefan held his hand up. He looked smug. “Not me! Serious Fraud Office here!”  

 

“There was a bomb, Sarge!” Rash protested.

 

“And hired killers trying to shoot us!” added Stefan.

 

“There was no evidence they followed you,” Derek pointed out.

 

“We couldn’t wait to find out!” Stefan argued.

 

Derek simply crossed his arms and scowled at them. “Whatever. Hit-men didn’t shoot this crap, whatever this crap is. I mean, is it actually crap? Did you shit yourselves?”

 

There wasn’t any point in arguing, thought Rash, there never was. “Give it here!” he demanded.

 

Derek flashed a richly printed invoice, accompanied by a snapshot of a light brown gooey pile by the side of the pool where Rash and Stefan had pulled themselves out.

 

Stefan curled his nose up in disgust, Rash’s hands went to his pockets, but he wasn’t wearing the right jacket. “Shit!” he said.

 

“It isn’t is it?” asked Stefan.

 

Rash hit his forehead with his hand, “Leila’s going to kill me. She made poolaki for our aunt. I was supposed to drop it off. It was in my pocket.”  He looked up at Derek, “It’s like toffee, okay. Just sweets.”

 

“Guv, doesn’t care if it’s gold bullion,  invoice still needs paid, besides…”

 

 _Oh, god_ , Derek had that look, the one that said he still had cards to play and sarcasm to drip. Rash blinked slowly and breathed deep.

 

Stefan’s cheeks colored. Rash thought idly that he looked adorable when he was angry.

 

“That’s bullshit! We solved a murder case, blew open a fraud case. Give that here.” Stefan snatched the invoice from Derek.

 

“Oh that is...I mean...it’s ridiculous. My cousin, he cleans pools sometimes, this is three, four times the price it should be. They'll be claiming insurance too. This is fraud. Give it back. Tell them to submit it to  my office. Spell out _f-r-a-u-d_ for them. They won’t bother.”

 

Derek bounced on his heels, still full of himself, “And the condom? What should I tell them about that?”

 

“A condom! That's nothing to do with us!” Rash claimed righteously.

 

Stefan’s eyes widened, “Well, maybe, technically…” He smacked his lips and tipped his head at Rash, sporting a little grin.

 

Stefan! Of course! Rash flung his hands up in despair, “We were meeting an informant. Why? Why would you carry a condom with you?”

 

“You had pookali.”

 

“Poolaki! And it’s not the same!”

 

Stefan, shrugged. Holy shit, Rash hated that shrug.

 

“Protection. Don’t you?”

 

“It doesn’t stop bullets!”

 

Stefan stared at him, his puppy eyes wide and soft liquid brown. It made Rash hot at the back of his neck, “Protection,” Stefan repeated, a little frustrated with him, for no good reason that Rash could tell.

 

Rash shook his head. It was ridiculous. Stefan was ridiculous.

 

Stefan huffed and frowned at him. “We were going to a hotel, together. A hotel has rooms. Rooms have beds.”

 

Rash wasn’t sure he understood what Stefan was talking about. “We went to interview an informant,” he said, confused.

 

Stefan looked like he wanted to strangle Rash.

 

Derek looked as if he was about to gag. He wiped his hands over his face, “That’s information I don’t need. Look, just make sure this is dealt with, yeah.” He waved the invoice at them and leaned close to Rash as he left, “Sayyadd, you’re a TDC - work it out.”

 

Stefan watched Derek go. He grinned at Rash again. “It wasn’t going to take all night. My mate Jan knows the concierge so we could get a room for less and he says the beds are epic, king size and bouncy. And y’know, I thought you and me...” Stefan faltered over rushed words, red cheeks highlighted the movement of his ridiculous, impudent, pink lips.

 

Rash stood up, “You’re an idiot, Stefan!”

 

Stefan bit that pretty pink, impudent lip. He splayed his hands in surrender, “I thought we...”

 

Rash grabbed his arm, pulled him toward the door.

 

“Rash. if I got the wrong idea, I’m sorry.” Stefan let Rash manhandle him out to the corridor, stumbling after him like a little boy and complaining with a half-hearted, "Ow! You're pulling. We're supposed to wait in there." 

 

The corridor was deserted, Rash checked twice before slamming Stefan up against the wall and crowding into him. He was going to shut Stefan’s ridiculous shameless pink lips up with his own. He was going to kiss him until he was too breathless to spew his cheek. Then, after Heywood’s debriefing, he was going to talk to Stefan’s friend, Jan, about booking a hotel room.

 

“You'd better get more protection,” he growled into the shell of Stefan’s ear, “Because there’s going to be some action and I can guarantee that I am going to shoot my load into you.”

 


End file.
